


The Things I Do For You

by ausmac



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Dubious Consent, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-01
Updated: 2016-08-01
Packaged: 2018-07-28 16:04:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7647607
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ausmac/pseuds/ausmac
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's one of those "someone has to have sex to survive" scenarios.  And both of these someone's aren't terribly friendly with each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Things I Do For You

**Author's Note:**

> Another of my early HP fanfics, which gave me a good chuckle to write. It was a self challenge, how to write Sirius Black and Severus Snape together and make it in any way believable. Only the reader can truly judge....

A dungeon somewhere, dark and dank.  Two figures were huddled on the floor, on opposite sides of the room.  

“Lumos.”  A feeble light winked into existence, to illuminate Severus Snape’s pale, bruised features. 

“Is that the best you can do, Snape?” 

“Oh, sod off, Black!” 

Sirius Black sighed. “Would that I could.”  He stretched, making the chains at his wrists and ankles ring softly.  “Tell me again why we are here?”  One finger jerked upwards.  “Wait, I remember.  Lucius has some bizarre spell worked out that allows You Know Who to take over someone at the point of death, but they must – to use the old vernacular – be untouched.  And that’s where you come in.  Virginal Snape.  Good Lord Merlin’s ghost..!”  Black’s chortle was obscene. 

Severus Snape pushed back against the far wall and rested his arms on his knees.  “You are sick, Black.  This is a deadly serious matter.” 

Black smirked, his full lips curving into a smile.  “I know, but I try to find the best of a bad situation.  You get sacrificed by the Death Eaters tomorrow morning at dawn.  Hmm, now, where was the bad part?” 

Teeth flashed as the two men snarled at each other across the small space.  “Black, you deserve the slow, tortuous death that Voldemort will inflict upon you when he takes over my corpse.” 

“Oh yes,” Sirius responded with a nod, “I remember, that’s the bad part.  Voldemort in your body.”  He considered it for a moment.  “At least, I think that’s the bad part.” 

“Would it be possible,” Snape said in a voice of strained impatience, “for you to stop acting like a total blithering idiot for five minute and help me think of some way out of this?” 

“It may be possible,” Sirius said, “depending on whether you come up with the plan that I’m terribly afraid you are coming to come up with.  You see, I’m using foresight here, and it’s making me nauseous.” 

If he hadn’t been manacled, Snape would probably have thrown himself at Black’s throat.  “What the FUCK are you talking about?” 

“That’s the word.  Fuck.” 

It didn’t take Snape long to work his way around Black’s peculiar logic (a fact that would worry him later).  When he did, his lower jaw dropped and his eyes bulged.  

“I.  Would.  Rather.  Die.” 

“I would rather you did too, you greasy git, but as you so nicely pointed out, when you leave your body for the great Slytherin afterlife, Voldemort moves in and sets up house, and then where would I be?  At least with you deflowered, we have  more time to escape.” 

Snape didn’t know what to react to first: being called a greasy git by a man who liked turning into a black dog, or the term “deflowered” being mentioned in regard to this intimate state.  The fact that he’d never had sex with anyone in his life was as much choice as happenstance.  He had simply never met anyone he considered worthy of sharing his body with.  Sirius Black was well down such a list of worthies, somewhere beneath having sex with a week-dead corpse. 

“As far as indecent proposals go, that ranks exceedingly high in the order of total turn-offs,” Snape sneered.  “Is this line of argument supposed to enamor me to you so that I start bending and presenting my arse, doggy fashion?” 

Sirius scratched under his armpit and cracked a flea between his thumb and finger nail.  “If you like.  You can be my bitch.  You might even like it.”  Flicking the flea away, Sirius held out a hand.  “Come on then, Snape, let’s get this over with.  Bring that body over here so I can screw it and get home and have someone hit me with an Obliviate so I can forget this whole thing.”  

Snape didn’t move.  There had to be another way.  But he knew there wasn’t.  The cell had wards on it, strong ones, and even a simple spell like the Lumos had taken all of his strength.  To do something as powerful as removing the manacles or getting the very heavy door open would be beyond both their powers.  And if they were in that cell come morning, with Snape in his sadly virginal state, then he would die and Voldemort would return and that was a Bad Thing either way he looked at it. 

But to have sex with Sirius Black – 

“Impossible,” he muttered, looking across at Black.  “This will never work. I may die if I don’t but I will certainly regret living afterwards.” 

Sirius looked offended.  “You’re assuming it would be bad.  None of my lovers have ever complained.  Some few have thanked me.  I’m actually very good.”  He began, Severus thought, to look worryingly thoughtful.  “I’m going to show you, old man, just how good getting screwed can be, when it’s done by a master.  You’ll be begging for it by the time I’m finished. . .” 

Snape looked towards the door, hit by an unusual sense of uncertainty.  

And across the room, Sirius saw the look, saw the dark eyes turning back to look at him and was shocked to see something like fear in those eyes.  When had he ever seen Snape afraid?  Angry, yes.  Furious, disgusted, annoyed, ranting.  But never frightened.  

You aren’t afraid of dying, Sirius thought, realising suddenly just what that fear was about.  You’re afraid of intimacy, of being touched, of being caressed.   The man could face a Dementor or wizard-duel a black wizard – but this was something else.  This was personal. 

And because it is me.  Yes, that was a factor too.  Severus Snape might theoretically reveal himself to a lover, if he trusted that lover enough.  Sirius he neither trusted nor loved. 

But there was no time to change what they were to each other, no time to unravel the knots of a lifetime’s clashes.  The dawn was a few hours away and then Snape would die and the creature that looked out of his eyes then would be a mad thing, made out of hell and hate.  However much history he and Snape might have, at least the man he fought with was a man. 

Sirius had done any number of things in his life to survive.  However, making Severus Snape accept him as a lover might just prove to be the oddest – and the most challenging. 

“Have you been kissed?” 

Snape had been watching Sirius with a distracted look on his face, and his chin jerked up at those words.  “Kissed?” 

“Yes, you know, kissed.  Lips pressed together, two people in contact via the mouth.  Kissed.” 

“Amusing.  I probably have.  I don’t recall.” 

“Well, if you don’t remember, the kisser must not have been every good.  We’ll start there.  One good thing about them nicking off with our clothes - we don’t have to go through the old “let me help you loosen your fly” routine…”  He held out his manacled hands.  “Come on Snape, don’t make this more difficult than it already is.  If it helps, you can pretend I’m someone you don’t hate quite so much.” 

With all the willingness of a man approaching his doom, Severus inched across the floor towards Sirius.  When he was within reach, Sirius pulled him the rest of the way.  Ignoring the outraged snarl, he slid one hand around Snape’s side and the other behind his neck.  It was as far apart as his hands could go, and the chain stretched across Snape’s chest. 

At the touch of those hands, Snape twitched and visibly paled, and Sirius grinned.  “I know, you want to spit at me or call me names, but you might actually find you enjoying being touched by me.  Many have.” 

Some colour flooded back into Snape’s cheeks as he rose to the bait.  “You arrogant –“ 

When Snape opened his mouth to curse, Sirius leant forward and gently kissed his parted lips.  When Snape tried to wrench himself away, Sirius held him in place.  When Snape tried to close his mouth, Sirius licked his own lips and ran them back and forth across Snape’s mouth, teasing the lips apart with the hot tip of his tongue. 

His victory was a small gasp of surprise.  He was so close to Snape, he could see the sparks of emotion lighting his black eyes, could smell the sweat and the musky odour of his skin.  Surprisingly, he didn’t smell all that bad – an odd mixture of lavender oil and chamomile and the tang of the potions he had mixed that day that still clung to his hair.  Mostly, though, Sirius could scent the hot, vaporised odour of spent lightning, that hung in the air after a thunderstorm.  It was like holding onto an unexploded bomb. 

Sirius tasted Snape’s open mouth.  Salty, musky, the faint remains of wine, and Snape’s tongue touched his and then they were battling in each other’s mouths.  He might be a virgin, Sirius thought a little numbly, but his kissing instincts were right on. 

Severus was equally astonished.  Had the thought of kissing Sirius Black ever entered his mind, he would doubtless have suspected early dementia.  He had always known that his eye was attracted more to handsome men than beautiful women.  In moments of rare and total honesty, he could admit that Black wasn’t all that hard on the eyes – but he was still the same bastard he had always been, and just as dislikeable. 

Yet, the taste of him, and the feel of his Black’s tongue exploring his mouth – well, he understood, then, how perverse he had grown to be, and how strange.  

Snape pulled back, took a rattling breath and stuttered, “N..n..ox!” 

The hovering wizard light wobbled a little, faded, brightened and then went out.  The cell plunged into darkness.  Sirius jerked upright. 

“What the hell did you do that for?” 

“Take a guess, idiot!” 

Sirius gave some thought to doing his own Lumos, but before he could summon the words an invisible mouth clamped itself on his nose. 

One of the obvious disadvantages of shagging in the dark.  He considered snorting something, but then the mouth slid lower and began sucking on his upper lip.  Sirius opened his mouth to say something clever and an unseen tongue thrust inside.  He gobbled as he fought to get his tongue out of the way and breathe at the same time.  Never had simply breathing taken so much concentration. 

Hands grabbed his head, dug into his hair and pulled.  Sirius yelped at the sudden pain, then found his mouth full of Snape’s tongue again.  He drank in the taste of fury and surprising passion and he pulled Snape even nearer until they were touching from shoulder to thigh.  As those unseen lips wandered over his mouth and chin, tasting and licking him, Sirius found himself shockingly aroused.  

In the dark, in a dungeon, he was being kissed by Severus Snape and he was as a hard as a teenager in hormonal overload.  What was the Cosmos coming to……?

Severus Snape was asking himself the very same question.  He’d had very little in mind other than a desire to get the whole thing over with as soon as possible - but the sensation of Black pressed against him, the smell of his sweat, the taste of his mouth, was like some peculiar potion mix, igniting his body in unexpected ways.  An altogether different desire. 

However he might feel in the upper reaches of his brain, his more fundamental self obviously had other ideas.  A part of him – a very surprising part of him – was aroused by the touch of his truest foe. 

While Voldemort and his minions were evil and destructive, Sirius Black was his history, his past, a shaping influence on his life.  As he filled his lungs with Black’s breath, felt the slick slide of his skin on Black’s chest and stomach, he realised he wanted this more than feared it.  Denying what his own body was saying would have been impossible.  The essence of truth meant more to Severus Snape than self-delusion. 

And even more surprising – and darkly delightful – was to sense Black’s response to his touch.  Not with revulsion, not even with anger – thought he hissed and bared his teeth, and muttered curses against Snape’s lips.  Still he shivered, and Snape smelled the musky hint of his arousal.  It seemed he wasn’t the only one “turned on” by the thought of sex with his enemy. 

“Damn it!  Damn it to hell!”  Sirius growled, and Snape was being kissed again, his mouth was being invaded again by a hungry tongue, and the kiss was so savage he felt consumed, and incredibly aroused. 

Just as Black’s hands gripped him, wrenching his legs up as if to tear him open – the door exploded inwards, sending shards of debris and light into the cell. 

 “Here they are!” said a familiar voice, as Potter and Weasley fell through the broken door, wands raised. 

Rescue had come, just in the nick of time. 

Snape swore a particularly foul oath. . . . 

 

The rest of the night passed in a rush of battle and fire.  Potter, Weasley and Lupin had dragged them out of the dungeons and up into the night, past burning rooms and battling wizards.  A whole pack of Hogwarts’ best and brightest had charged into the fray, destroying the old Abbey building and killing most the Death Eaters present, though Voldemort had escaped.  No-one had commented on the two men’s naked state or the odd position they’d been found in.  And Snape and Black had managed to avoid each other in the confusion and battle.  

Dressed in the torn and bloody Death Eater robe he’d grabbed to cover himself, Snape avoided Pomfrey’s well-meaning questions and made his way back to his rooms.  A bath seemed like a good idea.  

Perhaps, he thought, I can wash away the whole thing.  Yet as he lay half-submerged in the warm water,  the touch of his hands was more a reminder than a cleansing.  Other hands had touched him as no-one had before, aroused him more fervently than even his best fantasy-driven masturbation.  There had been nothing gentle about their contact, but then Snape rather suspected that temperate sex wasn’t something that would appeal to him.  Power, intelligence and courage were the things he respected.  Words like “gentle” rarely formed part of his life usage. 

Snape finished bathing and, wrapped in his black toweling robe, went to rest on his bed.  He was tired, but sleep eluded him.  That fantasy image wouldn’t let him rest.  Laying on his back, he considered Sirius  - 

“Sirius Black!  I am thinking of sex in the same mental breath with Sirius Black!” 

\- and unthinkingly wrapped his hand around his prick.  Looking down absently, he realised he was hard and fully aroused, the bright head poking up through the opening in his robe.  He closed his eyes, and saw those annoyingly attractive features bright with mischief and his hand began to move -- 

“Snape!”  The door to his quarters rattled against the hinges.  “Let me in, we have to talk!” 

Speak of the devil and he shall appear.  ”Go away, Black.  I’m busy.” 

There was a choked mutter and the door banged open to slam against the stone wall.  Black stormed in, and stopped as he caught sight of Snape through the open bedroom door.  He took a step forward and Snape glared. 

“I said go away.  How dare you break into my room!” 

“That show of temper might have more force,” Black said in a strange tone, “if you weren’t in bed jerking yourself off.  Thinking of me, Severus?”  Black started pulling his clothing off, his eyes locked on Snape’s damp face.  “We never did finish what we started.  There is still a virgin in need of deflowering.” 

“I’m not in chains now, Black,” Severus snarled, eyes narrowing through the wet fall of his hair.  “If you take another step I’ll - -“ 

“What? You’ll what?  Scream?  Wave your wand at me?” Pulling off his trousers with fabric-tearing haste, Sirius laughed.  “Oh wait, you’re already doing that!”  Shoes and socks went sailing across the room, and before Severus could move to Plan B, Sirius was on the bed and hoisting Severus up onto his lap.  “Well, not the screaming, but give me some time. . .” 

Black flicked his head sideways to avoid a rather half-hearted punch, and then the power of speech deserted Snape as a hot finger inserted itself up into his thankfully damp arse at the same time as a hand wrapped around his prick. 

Snape slid up onto his knees, his legs on either side of Black’s and arched backwards, groaning, as that insinuating finger stroked against his prostate.  It felt so – damned – good! 

More fingers joined the first, wriggling around and opening him and he heard Black chuckle.  “What was that…did you say, please, fuck me, Sirius?” 

There was only one suitable response.  Severus slipped forward and bit down hard on Black’s left nipple.  “Bastard,” he said, around a mouthfull of flesh, “you talk too much.” 

Sirius yelped, grabbed Snape’s shoulders and pushed him over onto his back.  Before Severus could make a move, Sirius pulled the black robe fully open, and began licking his way down Snape’s body.  Chest, stomach, down the trail of black hair to the groin, around the vertical cock, down to the balls which he sucked into his mouth.   With both hands on Snape’s hips, he pushed Severus backward and up and began sucking at the damp opening of his arse. 

The idea of anyone actually that to him had never entered Severus Snape’s brain.  Held in an uncomfortable angle, his body arched upwards, legs dangling, he panted.  Part of his brain wondered if it might be possible to bottle that sensation.  Essence of Tongue in Arse.  He could be a very rich wizard. 

Then the mouth was gone and the finger was back, probing into him, joined by a second, and for some minutes Sirius worked his arse, stretching and pushing into him, until a mixture of pleasure and lust had Snape speaking in tongues.  

Sirius leant forward, hooked one arm around Snape’s neck and pulled him forward into a painful curve.  Then they were kissing, Sirius sucking hungrily on Snape's open mouth – and before Snape could do more than moan, Sirius had slid beneath his thighs and mounted him with one well-placed thrust. 

They both gasped and then they were moving, grinding together, rocking back and forth.  Severus forgot the pain of entry as the big prick constantly rubbed over his prostate, filling him with heat and pressure.  Held by the strong arms, locked in the rhythm of sex, he was possessed, and lost. 

Snape’s first orgasm with a cock buried in his arse was memorable.  He didn’t actually scream – but his body shuddered in a convulsive wave, every nerve firing in a domino-like wave of pleasure.  Sirius thrust into the limp body twice, arched back and came, biting his lip, his face dripping with sweat. 

Sometime later, they came back to awareness slumped side by side on the rumpled bed.  As his heartbeat returned to normal, Snape wearily turned his head to see Sirius watching him with an unusual expression on his face.  It took Severus a few moments to realise that wasn’t so much an expression, as the lack of one.  Black had rarely been so close to Snape without showing some degree of anger.  He was simply watchful, and very satisfied. 

“You know,” Sirius said, in a weary, small voice, “I don’t think I hate you quite so much.” 

Snape gave a tired laugh and patted the arm that was resting on his stomach.  “Don’t worry, Black – I’m sure we can find something to dislike about this if we try very hard.” 

And then Severus Snape did the most surprising thing of all: with Sirius Black tucked up against him in his bed, he fell asleep.  
  
---  
  
 


End file.
